


Metamorphosis

by Udunie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Body Modification, Bondage, Breathplay, Catheters, Dark and Twisted, Emetophilia, Fisting, Fucking Machines, Kidnapping, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sounding, Urethral Play, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:17:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles woke up groggy and with a headache. He didn’t remember drinking too much, but he must have been really wasted, because this was a hangover from hell…</p><p>Except he usually didn’t have strange man talking over his head after getting drunk.</p><p>“Here’s the list. We only have three months to get him ready for the opening, otherwise we will be one boy short and the investors will not like that,” said a cool voice. </p><p>Stiles blinked his eyes open. The man talking was black and bald. He was wearing a white labcoat.</p><p>There were two more men there, a blond and a dark haired with a goatee, both of them in scrubs. Orderlies? Was he in a hospital? What the hell happened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deathtouch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathtouch/gifts).



> this is a new fic! It's dedicated to the lovely Makenna, who is the best! :D
> 
> also, forever thanks for Emma for helping me with all the wild shit my brain vomits up

Stiles woke up groggy and with a headache. He didn’t remember drinking too much, but he must have been really wasted, because this was a hangover from hell…

Except he usually didn’t have strange man talking over his head after getting drunk.

“Here’s the list. We only have three months to get him ready for the opening, otherwise we will be one boy short and the investors will not like that,” said a cool voice. 

Stiles blinked his eyes open. The man talking was black and bald. He was wearing a white labcoat.

There were two more men there, a blond and a dark haired with a goatee, both of them in scrubs. Orderlies? Was he in a hospital? What the hell happened?

He tried to swallow, because his mouth felt really dry and his throat hurt, but to his horror he could barely do it. Something was in his mouth, keeping it open. 

“That’s a lot stuff to do in three months, doc,” said the blond one as he looked over the chart handed to him.

The… the doctor hummed under his breath.

“Yes, well, if  _ someone  _ followed my instructions and didn’t go completely overboard, the house wouldn’t be understaffed and we wouldn’t be in such a rush.”

Goatee huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, come on. The only perk of this job is to play a bit on occasion. Accidents happen.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow and looked back to Blondie.

“You are calling the shots on this one. We can’t have any more delays. I want him primed and ready for opening night. I don’t care what you do with him outside of the treatment as long as he stays usable, am I clear?”

Blondie nodded. 

Stiles made a sound in the back of his throat, getting scared now. He had no idea what the hell was going on, but he was… he was tied to the bed, hands and feet fixed with wide, leather cuffs to the white railing on the sides of it. All three men looked at him at once and he wished he stayed quiet.

Goatee grinned.

“Look who’s up! Ready to start your metamorphosis, kid?”

Stiles pulled on his bindings, but other than rattling the bedframe a little nothing happened. There was a sheet covering his body, but he had the uncomfortable suspicion that he was naked under it.

The doctor stepped up to the bed, looking at him like he was an insect under the microscope.

“Good morning. I’m really sorry about this, but we are in kind of a pinch. Usually we wouldn’t resort to taking well adjusted young men like yourself right off the street, but… As you probably heard, we’re in a rush. My name is Doctor Deaton, and I will be the supervisor of your case. These two gentleman are Peter and Chris,” he said, nodding towards the orderlies. “They will be responsible for your care and your treatment for the next three months.”

Stiles wanted to tell him to fuck off. To let him go, right this instant, but the gag in his mouth twisted his words into garbled moans. It seemed the man still understood the sentiment.

“I guess I owe you an explanation - it won’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things, but you deserve it. Our enterprise specializes in establishing redlight houses for the extremely wealthy. We are already operating in seven states, and in three months we will open our first Californian house.”

Stiles made a desperate little sound. This couldn’t be happening. 

“And let me tell you something about old, rich men. They want to feel alive. They have everything at their fingertips; money, wives four decade younger, power… They want the extreme, that nobody else can get. They want the  _ thrill _ . They want to walk into a room with a pretty, young prostitute and do things normal people wouldn’t even dream of. Things you have no idea your body is even capable of withstanding. That’s why you’re here. We will prime your body until it’s the lewdest, naughtiest toy for old men to play with.”

Stiles closed his eyes.

***

Stiles struggled and screamed and did everything he could to escape but the three men didn’t even acknowledge it. Deaton sighed.

“Let’s leave him for a bit, he will tire himself out soon,” he said and walked out with the orderlies following him out.

Stiles didn’t know how long he was left alone, but by the time Chris and Peter came back he was exhausted, face a mess of tears and snot. 

“Aw, look at the poor thing…” Peter said, pulling a cart that was covered with a sheet. “I thought it would be fun to tube him in while he was awake, but he looks like shit.”

Stiles turned his head from side to side. He didn’t know what that meant, but he knew he didn’t want it to happen.

Chris looked him over critically, wiping his face off with a paper towel that felt rough on his skin.

“Yeah. Just a bit though, don’t want to knock him out for too long.”

Stiles felt a pinch on his arm, and then he was asleep.

***

He woke up to a stuffy nose and something irritating the back of his throat. He tried to cough but it only made the feeling worse.

“Calm down, kid,” Peter said, fiddling with some kind of… vest? Chris was moving beside his head, just outside his field of vision.

Stiles blinked. Something wasn’t right. Peter stepped closer and lifted something by his face - it was a pair of tubes, and as he moved them Stiles could feel that they were… they were going into his nose.

“One for feeding, one for breathing,” the man said with a grin. His heartbeat picked up, galloping in a panic. No. No, no, no.

Peter patted his face.

“For now we are going to concentrate on the structural modifications. This,” he said, holding up the vest-thing in his hands, “is a corset. Normally we would remove your lower ribs to get that nice, hourglass shape, but we don’t have time for such a big surgery right now…”

Stiles whined, eyes wide as he looked at the man.

“Oh, cut it out! You are terrifying the poor kid,” Chris said. Stiles craned his neck to look at him. He was fiddling with an iv bag that was full of what appeared to be some white liquid. There was also some sort of tank there too.

Peter huffed out a laugh. 

“Hey, it’s the truth. Help me get it under him.”

Stiles tried to move away from them, but his wrists and ankles were still tied to the railing, and the orderlies easily managed to get the thing under him. 

“I will pull it tight so cram the oxygen up a bit,” Peter said as he started to buckle the corset around him.

“Alright, but don’t break any bones,” Chris warned him.

The corset wasn’t like the delicate stuff he saw on tv, this was made from a thick, durable material with leather straps to pull it closed, and as Peter worked him into it, Stiles could feel his chest constrict, until he could barely breath. He expected to black out, but even with the minimal wiggle room, he was… okay.

It hurt. His body was throbbing like one big bruise and his eyes watered from it.

Chris checked him over when Peter was done, nodding in satisfaction.

“That should be good. Now let’s get the lower half done.”

Stiles could move even less with the corset on, and so he just watched in horror as the men took some tubing and pulled the sheet covering his groin off him.

Peter whistled.

“Ah, that’s a cute little cock. Such a shame we have to fuck it up.”

Stiles didn’t have enough air to shout, but he wanted to.

Chris patted his thighs.

“It’s okay, kid. It will be gradual enough that you will barely notice it, and by the time we’re done, you won’t care.”

That was the opposite of encouraging.

They forced his legs apart and used new straps to tie his knees to the railing too, until he was stretched out like a fucking frog to be dissected.

“This will probably hurt,” Chris warned him as he used a tube of cold lube to slick up his cockhead. Stiles closed his eyes when he saw the man fitting a catheter to his slit.

It did hurt, it burned all the way in, and he almost blacked out even with the oxygen pumping into him.

“Can’t have you pissing everywhere,” Peter explained, attaching an empty bag to the end of the tubing.

Chris wiped his hands on a towel and covered him with the flimsy sheet again.

“Get some rest,” he said before they left.

***

Stiles couldn’t sleep. He felt tired, but with everything going on with his body there was no way he could relax enough. He looked around. The room looked like it was built for multiple people, there were rust marks on the tiled floor where other beds used to be. About four feet of the walls were also tiled, in an ugly, hospital-blue.

The place wasn’t spotless by any means, the windows were almost completely boarded in,but the walls and the ceiling were freshly painted, though he could see that it had been a quick, shabby job.

The whole placed looked creepy and haunted. He couldn’t hear anything either. After the orderlies left he could hear their footsteps echoing on empty corridors.

Stiles stared at the crampy pain on the ceiling.

***

He ended up dozing after all, and was woken by Peter yanking his sheet off. The little light that managed to get through the window was gone. It must have been night.

“Good evening, princess. I’m here with your injections.”

Stiles blinked at him stupidly, mouth dry.

Peter grinned. He looked like a fucking sadist.

“First I will take care of your nipples, then your balls,” he said, sounding way too cheerful for the terror Stiles was feeling.

He took up a syringe from the cart. It only had a little liquid in it, but Stiles still shuddered at the sight of the needle. It didn’t slip the man’s notice.

“Oh, you don’t like needles, kid? Sorry to break it to you, but you are going to get very familiar with them,” he said. He didn’t look like he was sorry at all.

Stiles whined as Peter pinched his nipple between two fingers to make it hard. The corset ended just below them.

“This wonderful little cocktail will get these babies nice and big, so sensitive that you will be rutting against the nearest leg if someone just looks at them,” he said, amused. 

He clenched his eyes shut as the needle went into him. It didn’t hurt that much, but just the thought of it was enough to get him sick in the stomach. After Peter injected him his whole chest started to feel itchy and tingling. It wasn’t exactly a bad feeling, but it was so foreign, almost like ants marching across his skin. 

Peter did the other side too before reaching for his groin.

Stiles desperately wanted to kick him.

The man took up a new injection, rolling his balls in his hands almost thoughtfully.

“Now, this one will get your horny-juices into overdrive. I have no idea what Deaton puts in it, but it sure works like magic.”

Having the needle go into his testes was much more painful. Stiles’ back arched off the bed as much as it could in the corset and he started crying almost immediately from how bad it was. Peter tutted. 

“I know it’s not pleasant at first, but believe, you will thank us for it later.”

Stiles eyes were blurry by the time he finished, and his head was dizzy enough that for a second he had no idea what Peter was holding in his hand next. 

It was a dildo. A floppy, smooth dildo.

“And this is your pacifier for the night,” he said. 

What?

Peter grabbed his hair to hold his head in place and slowly slid the dildo into his mouth. It fit perfectly into the ring keeping his jaw open, and when it was completely in something clicked, slotting into place.

Stiles could feel himself panicking; the dildo was so long that it touched the back of his throat, making him want to puke. He swallowed convulsively and wondered how he wasn’t suffocating, until he remembered the oxygen being pumped straight to his lungs.

Peter patted his cheek.

“Sweet dreams, princess.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my eternal thanks to the lovely Emma!

Stiles had a fitful night. Every time he almost fell asleep he was woken by the feeling of having a fake cock being jammed down his throat. It sent his body all kinds of warning signals.

By the time the orderlies returned he just wanted them to get it out.

Peter looked as cheerful as yesterday, and he prepared new syringes while Chris went around changing both his pissbag and his feeding bag before he got the dildo out of his mouth. Stiles was relieved that he could finally breath again, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fucking needles.

Peter grinned down at him, showing too many teeth.

“What’s up, princess? You thought we were done with these?” He pinched Stiles’ nipples and he gasped because… shit, that felt differently yesterday…

“These chemicals aren’t meant to be administered in large doses, so I’m afraid you will have to take three sets of shots a day for a while. We want the effects permanent, after all.”

Stiles keened as the needle pierced his skin, chest lighting up with sensation. To his horror he could feel his cock twitch.

Chris hummed under his breath.

“I see it’s already starting to work. I don’t often say this, kid, but it looks like you are very receptive of this stuff. You would do all of us a favor if you stopped fighting it.”

Stiles shook his head. Never.

He cried when his balls were injected, but at least the pain of that quickly killed any kind of stirring in his groin.

Chris pulled a stool close and sat down.

“Today we’re gonna start with sounding,” he said, and Peter looked absolutely ecstatic at the idea. Stiles already knew that that couldn’t be a good sign.

He didn’t know what sounding meant, didn’t know what the long, metal rods were for that Peter gave the other man.

Then Chris slowly pulled his catheter out and he knew.

He tried to jerk away, but all it achieved was Peter tutting at him and taking out a few leather straps that he buckled around Stiles’ hips and fixed to the bed. He couldn’t move his pelvis even an inch.

“There’s no need to make this harder than it has to be,” Chris told him. His voice wasn’t unkind, and it just made Stiles feel more hopeless. 

The first rod was thin, maybe even thinner than his catheter had been, but the cold, rigid metal sliding into him still had him crying. It wasn’t painful, but it made his skin crawl.

Chris worked it into him slowly, and to Stiles’ despair his cock slowly hardened under his ministrations. The sound was rubbing against his piss slit from inside and the man’s warm fingers on the outside making him unable to stop it.

He couldn’t move away, he couldn’t even tell him to stop. He hated it. 

Chris fucked his urethra with the metal rod for a few minutes and then pulled it out, lubing up a bigger one. Fuck.

Peter pulled up a chair and sat down by his head, stroking Stiles’ hair, eyes glued to what his coworker was doing.

“You know,” he said quietly, “some of our clients will love your fucked up little cock. We will do this every day until your poor piss slit can take a pencil. And then we will do it some more…”

Stiles sobbed, trying to turn his head away, but Peter’s fingers tightened in his hair.

“Tell me, princess, have you ever thought about someone finger fucking your cock?”

***

He was left alone afterwards. His cock was hurting, throbbing with pain and with a new - thicker - catheter in place. That had been… Stiles didn’t even have words for it. Chris only used the three thinnest rods, but by the end of it he was still a ball of misery.

Peter’s words chased around in his head. There was no way it could be done. What he talked about wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

Stiles shivered. His nipples were hard, just from the thin sheet rubbing against them.

***

After his break, the men were back. They were pulling another cart, but this was different. It was some kind of machine. The orderlies parked it at the end of the bed, putting the breaks on the wheels.

Stiles looked at it with apprehension.

“Oh, don’t be like that, princess. This will be your favorite part of the day soon enough,” Peter said. Chris untied the straps around his waist and worked a pillow under his ass.

Stiles didn’t even wanted to know what was happening.

“You fit the dildo, I will get the electrodes,” he said. Peter winked at Stiles and pulled the cover off the machine. It had a metal arm coming out of it, pointing right at him and as he watched, Peter attached a rubber dildo to it.

Oh, no.

He couldn’t look away, even though he wanted to keep an eye on Chris too. By the time he managed to tear his gaze away, the man was already fiddling with a small box that had wires coming out of it. They had little cuffs at the end of them and he put those around Stiles’ limp, sore cock. 

He whined. Even that was more than he could take. Chris rubbed the inside of his thigh comfortingly.

“Sorry, kid. I know it will hurt, especially with the catheter, but… doctor’s orders.”

Peter laughed. The machine whirred and the arm moved closer to him, until it was almost touching his hole. Stiles couldn’t move. 

It was Chris who pushed a lubed finger into him, and then another, scissoring them a few times. The stretch burned, and made his belly squirm.

“Don’t spoil him, Chris,” Peter said, as he dripped some lube on the dildo.

“Alright, alright. We can’t let him get injured, though. Deaton will kill us.”

Peter shrugged, and started the machine again as soon as Chris pulled out. It inched slowly forward and Stiles shouted when it finally breached his hole. It was nothing like he ever felt before and it just kept going and going, much deeper than fingers could reach.

He was short of breath by the time it bottomed out.

“Start on low,” Chris said and Peter sighed, like his fun had been ruined. Stiles gasped, eyes rolling back as the machine got into motion, fucking him in slow, measured thrusts. It hurt. Not too much, but just on the verge of actually painful.

Chris twisted the knobs on the small box and Stiles’ body jerked as his cock twitched under the shock of low current running through it. It wasn’t exactly pleasure, but it was close enough that he felt his face flush.

Peter patted the machine.

“Well, princess, I better leave you with your new best friend. Chris will stay to change the dildo to a bigger one in ten minutes, but I have a turkey sandwich waiting for me.”

Stiles barely heard him. His cock was buzzing with electricity as the machine jabbed into him over and over, rubbing his hole and massaging his insides. 

He didn’t even know if Peter was still there when he came - a shock of artificial pleasure that left him shaking - but Chris was, petting his belly like he was a dog begging for scratches.

“That’s it kid. Eight more minutes until you can get a bigger one.”

***

Stiles slept after that, deep and dreamless. He must have come a dozen times, by the end it didn’t even feel good, just a horrible twisting feeling in his stomach, like he was dry-heaving with a small burst of pleasure at the edge of it.

They must have left him for a while, because when he woke he was alone. He watched his catheter turn yellow as he pissed. He didn’t even feel it.

His crack was still a mess of lube, even though Chris wiped him down. It must have been leaking out of him as his entrance tried to close.

Fuck. He was exhausted and dizzy with coming so many times. It wasn’t fair that they made him feel pleasure. He didn’t want it. He wanted to hate everything they did.

When the door opened, it was only Peter. With the injections.

“Hey there, princess. Got a good fucking, didn’t you? Get used to it,” he said. 

He loaded the syringes, but didn’t injected him right away, taking long moments to pinch and twist his nipples. Stiles moaned, closing his eyes. Shit. Shit, his chest was so sensitive. 

“Hm, you’re starting to see the appeal, aren’t you? It’s fine, that’s the whole point.”

Stiles shook his head, but all that got him was Peter digging his nails into his nipples, making him garble out a scream through his gag.

“Oh, don’t lie! It would be easier if you just accepted it. You are going to love people playing with your tasty little tits, and a few more sessions on the fucking machine and you will be coming like a dog if someone so much as blows on your hole…”

Stiles cried quietly, wishing that the man would just get it over with.

“You know, our clients like to think that they are excellent lovers. Even the ones who can’t get it up without a constant stream of viagra. They like it when the boys come, it’s a victory for their old, wrinkly asses. That’s why we’re putting so much work into you, princess. Three months from now a bald, pot bellied banker will push his withered little penis into that hungry asshole of yours, and you will come like a bitch in heat…”

Stiles didn’t open his eyes until Peter was finished with his shots and left the room.

***

In the afternoon - because it had to be afternoon, it had to - Chris was the one to come back. Stiles wouldn’t have admitted it, but he heaved a sigh of relief. From the two of them, Chris was the lesser evil so far.

The man pulled his stool up to Stiles’ head after changing his bags again. He was holding the dildo that Peter put into his mouth last night.

Was it that late already?

“Okay, kid. Time to practice your blow job skills,” he said. He turned the oxygen off and loosened his corset a bit.

Normal breathing was almost strange.

“You think you can stay still for me?” Chris asked as he touched the dildo to Stiles’ lips. He jerked his head away on instinct and the man sighed.

“Didn’t think so…” he sounded disappointed.

Stiles couldn’t do anything as the man strapped his head down to the bed until he couldn’t turn it anymore.

“Alright, kid, here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to fuck your mouth with this, and you will practice holding your breath.

Stiles moaned. He didn’t want that. Chris gave him a wry smile. 

“It sucks, but truth of the matter is, your ass won’t be enjoyable for everyone by the time you get to work with customers, and that means that you have to be very good at getting pounded in the face.”

He didn’t waste anymore time and pushed the dildo into his mouth, deeper and deeper until it cut off his air. Stiles choked, but the next second it was gone and he gasped in air.

“Well, that’s not much. You have a nice mouth, but you will have to work harder than that,” Chris told him disapprovingly. When he did it again, he kept it in his throat a few seconds longer until Stiles’ eyes filled with tears and his lungs started to burn.

“This will be a long hour,” he said and Stiles couldn’t help but agree.

***

Chris was fucking his mouth fast, only letting him breath periodically when the door opened. It was Deaton, and the orderly immediately stopped what he had been doing. Stiles never thought that he would ever be grateful to see the doctor.

“How’s it going, Chris?” he asked. He was wearing the lab coat again, and it just made him even creepier.

“Done all the exercises today. He had excellent reactions to everything.”

Doctor Deaton raised an eyebrow in question.

Chris glanced at Stiles for a second, like he didn’t know if he should be talking in front of him, but then went on.

“He came more than ten times with e-stim during the anal workout.”

“Oh,” the doctor seemed pleasantly surprised. “My, my. Usually they are too terrified to manage more than three or four on their first session,” he said, looking at Stiles with interest.

Fuck. Fuck, was that true? Or were they playing some sort of trick on him? That… that had to be it.

“That’s good news, at least… I’ve talked with the investors about what direction we should take his training. I already decided that he would be a gaper, because the boy that dropped out was one too, but I didn’t want to make the call on… the speciality.”

Chris nodded, even though Stiles was confused.

“So, what will it be? We can go in a lot of directions with him.”

Deaton smiled.

“It seems the investors want our selection to be a bit more exotic,” he said.

“Ah. You will be making surgical adjustments?”

Stiles felt his body freeze. What. What?

“Just a little, a snip here, a snip there. Nothing that takes too long to heal.”

Chris huffed out a breath, looking back at Stiles as he turned the oxygen on again, locking the dildo into his mouth.

“Well, kid, you will need to get a good night’s sleep then, you will have a hard day tomorrow.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My forever thank for Emma! You're the best, hon!
> 
> Also, WARNING, people, please examine the updated tags!

Stiles didn’t know if the next day was hard or not, because the morning after when Peter gave him his usual shots he also got sedatives that knocked him out.

When he woke up it felt like a lot of time passed. He was feeling groggy again, his skull was filled with wool. His mouth hurt, and his balls… Stiles had no idea if it was something unusual, or just the result of his ‘training’.

He was alone and there was an iv drip beside him leading to his arm. What the fuck?

Chris came in shortly after, bringing a tray of bandages.

“You up, kid? That wasn’t so bad was it? I mean, under normal circumstances you wouldn’t even need to be sedated for these, but we thought it would be safer.”

Stiles blinked up at him stupidly. He made a sound, but his tongue felt swollen and painful in his mouth. What was up with that?

Chris came over and peered into his mouth.

“It looks good,” he said, like he was just talking to himself, and it was getting infuriating - not knowing what he was going on about. The man must have seen it in his eyes, because he huffed out a breath.

“Didn’t want to freak you out before, but it’s all done now. Deaton split your tongue. It’s amazing how crazy the old fucks go for that. And even if we can’t bring your blow job skills up to par, it will give you an edge.”

Stiles’ brain flatlined. They what? He could remember a guy in one of his classes who had a forked tongue - and a lot of tattooes - and he thought he looked a bit… creepy. Did he…? Did he have a tongue like that too? 

He didn’t even notice when he started to cry, but then Chris was there, ruffling his hair almost affectionately.

“Hey, it’s okay. It doesn’t have any side effects, other than making people who are into it hot in their pants, and let’s be honest, that is the only job requirement where you’re going.”

He pulled the sheet off his body. Stiles was tied down by his knees again, spread out and open for anyone to touch. His thighs shook as he wanted to close them, but he couldn’t.

“You also got a piercing,” Chris told him, carefully pulling his cock out of the way. Stiles sobbed as the man touched his balls. They hurt.

“It’s in your scrotum, right through it, above your balls… Interestingly enough, you can’t just punch a hole there, you actually have to make a small incision and sew the sides shut for it to heal properly.”

Stiles shook his head in useless denial as Chris fiddled around, changing the gauze over the… the wound.

“The great thing about it is that - once it’s healed - you can stretch it, like those crazy ear gauges you can put a beercan through… I don’t think we will get that far with this in just three months, but we will be able to put something the size of a thumb in there. Maybe a bit more.”

Stiles wouldn’t have known what to say to that, even if he could talk.

***

The next two weeks followed the same pattern. He would get his shots. He would get sounded. He would get fucked by the machine. Sometimes multiple times a day. After a few days to let his tongue heal a bit they started fucking his face with the dildo again too. 

Stiles lost most of his sense of time, too caught up in everything else.

He was dimly aware that the metal rods in his cock were getting bigger, that Chris pushed them in deeper until the end of them rubbed against his prostate from the inside, making him see stars. 

His hole was getting fucked with bigger toys too. As soon as his body would get used to the size, they would change it for a thicker one that made his eyes water and his ass gape after they were done.

His body… his body was changing. Stiles’ brain was still revolting against it - most of the time - but it was getting harder and harder to think clearly.

One day Peter came in alone.

“Guess what, princess? Chris is having a day off. Family engagement, apparently, but at least we have a little time to ourselves,” he said. Stiles shuddered from the look of his smile.

He pushed the fuckingmachine away from the end of the bed.

“What do you say? Want to try something a bit different today?”

Stiles didn’t even try to shake his head. There was no use.

To his shock, Peter pulled his catheter out and untied his legs. That never happened before - or at least he didn’t remember. Sometimes they would knock him out with drugs and bath him but he didn’t remember any of it afterwards.

His first instinct was to kick out, but to his horror he didn’t have the strength to do it. Peter still grinned at him as his feet jerked in vain.

“Feeling feisty, princess? Keep that energy for later, cause you’re going to need it,” he said. He took Stiles’ corset off too, running his hands over the newly exposed skin. Stiles could see that he had some yellowing bruises at his sides, and his torso felt different, but he couldn’t exactly ask for a mirror.

Peter climbed up the bed and bent Stiles’ body in half, strapping his ankles to the railing beside his head. His spine popped after it was forced to stay straight for so long. It would have made it hard to breath, but he was still tubed in with a steady stream of oxygen taking care of his need of air.

The man slapped his upturned ass hard when he was fixed in position.

“And now I’m going to go to town on this needy little hole of yours,” he said. He squirted some lube to his crack, making Stiles shudder from the cold. Peter didn’t play around and inserted three fingers right away, jabbing them as far as they would go.

Stiles moaned, trying to suppress the way his cock immediately started twitching, telling himself that it was just the damned conditioning and he wasn’t enjoying it. He wasn’t.

Peter was looking at his hole like he was hungry. He pulled out to add more lube and then returned with four fingers, starting to fuck him with them hard and fast.

“You know, by the time we’re finished with you,” he said, not taking his eyes away from Stiles’ hole slurping around his fingers, “you will be able to get fisted at the drop of a hat…”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a drop of precum splatter to his chest. No, no, he didn’t want this.

“Those guys will be able to just walk up to you and push a hand straight in - no preparation, no nothing. Just a nice, hot cock-pocket waiting for someone to dip his whole arm inside.”

Stiles screamed as Peter tucked his thumb in and pushed, forcing his hand inside on the second try. As soon as the widest part popped through his stretched rim he came, cock jerking in the air as it dribbled come all over Stiles’ chest.

Peter laughed.

“Just like that! You will be so grateful, too, princess. You will walk around the house, badgering anyone who wanders in the door to use you. We trained a boy once who was so desperate for it, it was ridiculous. And you, princess,” he said, yanking his hand out and then thrusting it back again and again until he was punch-fucking Stiles’ hole, “you have the potential to become the neediest whore I’ve ever seen.”

Stiles came again, turning his head into the pillow. There was drool leaking out of his mouth, soaking the fabric under his face, but he barely felt it, eyes rolled back as he kept coming.

***

He must have blacked out, because the next time he opened his eyes, Deaton was there too. Sometimes he didn’t show his face for days, but now Stiles was glad to see him. He was too come-stupid to know why, but he was happy to not be alone with Peter.

“Again?” the doctor asked the orderly as the man climbed off the bed. Stiles’ hole felt open and so… so empty that he wanted to cry. His brain was fuzzy.

Peter shrugged. 

“What? I didn’t break him, I swear… and anyway, he needed a bit of a workout, I think Chris is going easy on him.”

Deaton shook his head, but he looked fond.

“As long as he’s usable I don’t care, but considering your record, I would rather you played with supervision,” he said. He got on the bed, taking Peter’s spot and examined Stiles’ hole from up close.

“At least he’s nice and loose. I wanted to do an inspection anyway.” 

He motioned for Peter, and the man brought his bag over. Deaton rummaged around until he found what he was looking for; a shiny, big speculum. 

Stiles moaned as it slid inside. At least he wasn’t empty anymore, but the metal was so cold…

Deaton started to widen the instrument until it felt like he would be torn apart. Stiles whined, but his cock still made a valiant effort to harden.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, standing close and watching with rapt attention.

“I think it’s time for his prostate shot. You’ve made quite the progress but…”

“Oh I haven’t seen you do that up-close yet… Well, no time like the present, right?”

The doctor hummed, looking thoughtful. He reached inside Stiles, searching out his prostate and making him moan.

“I know he can already come with just anal stimulation, but I want it to be hair-trigger. He needs to be able to reach orgasm even with… insufficient stimulation”

Peter snorted.

“You mean getting fucked with tiny, half-hard, geezer cocks.”

Deaton tutted disapprovingly.

Stiles’ brain was sluggish, but he knew that he didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“I made the cocktail a bit stronger than usual, so the risk of permanent incontinence is up to about ninety percent,” Deaton said matter of factly.

If anything, the orderly only looked more excited.

“That’s hardly a problem. With all the deep sounding we’re doing, he wouldn’t have perfect bladder control anyway,” he said.

Deaton nodded his head.

“True. Alright. I have a loaded syringe in there, pass it to me, would you?”

Peter was happy to oblige.

“Okay, hold him in place, because this is going to hurt,” the doctor said. The orderly grabbed Stiles’ thighs keeping him steady.

Deaton kept a hand in him, finger on his prostate, and needle over his perineum. As soon as he started pushing it inside Stiles was howling. He didn’t even know why. Yeah, it hurt, but he was also scared. This wasn’t what usually happened. He was used to that…

The doctor kept talking.

“He will have a fever for a few days, and after that he should be much more responsive…” Stiles could feel it when the needle pierced his prostate, the pain intensifying, and getting even worse when the man started to push down on the pump of the syringe.

“There might also be a loss of cognitive function - more than usual - for... well, permanently, probably.”

Peter was holding his trembling body in place, turning his head to smile at Stiles.

“I would hardly call that a loss, stupid looks good on him. Isn’t that right?”

That was the last thing he heard for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Emma for helping me along! <3
> 
> PLEASE READ THE UPDATED TAGS!

Chris wanted to say that he was surprised when he returned from his day off to find the kid out of his mind, but… well. He did leave him with Peter.

The biggest difference between him and Peter was that Peter didn’t care about the money at all. He was there, because he got a kick out of changing young men into living sextoys. Chris kind of had a healthy respect for him, since the guy could walk around all day with a boner without blowing up.

He himself was mostly there for the money. Oh, he wasn’t a hypocrite enough to say that he didn’t find certain aspects of the job arousing, but for him it was first and foremost work and just secondly pleasure.

Peter was all about the pleasure.

It took a few days for the kid’s fever to die down. It had actually been easier to take care of him while he was out of it; there was no struggling, no moaning, no pathetic, pleading looks. In their place they had stupid, empty eyes and a body jerking and twitching at every touch, like they were live wires every time they touched him.

The boy’s nipples were already large, but now that he was pliant enough they also used pumps on him - strong ones that were made to make the cute little nips grow large and angry looking. Peter had a great time when the pumps came of just pinching and sucking on them with the kid throwing his head from side to side, constantly moaning. 

Chris thought it wouldn’t be long before he would be coming just from that.

The last injection Deaton gave him was always like magic, but this kid seemed extremely receptive of the cocktail.

“I think,” Peter said one day, after the boy’s fever was gone, “That we should let him play a little.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t exactly opposed to it, but Peter’s ideas usually resulted in disasters.

“Oh, come on! The poor thing is just itching for a test drive, and Deaton said I can only play with him when you are around. And, hey! At least we could give him a haircut… That mane is getting out of hand.”

Chris sighed. Lately even his own cock was constantly at half mast from all the moaning the kid did.

“Alright.”

***

There was no resistance when they untied and untubed the boy. As easy as it would have been to do it right there, there would certainly be a mess afterwards and neither of them were keen on clean up.

“Hey there, princess,” Peter told the boy, grinning wide as he unclasped his gag. The kid looked at him stupidly, trying to make words and failing. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth even after the gag was removed, his jaw too out of practice to close it.

Peter slapped him and that seemed to work.

“Heeee…” the boy moaned. It wasn’t really a word, but something at least. Chris busied himself with getting the wheelchair ready.

“I have something just for you,” Peter said, holding out a big bottle of the white, creamy liquid they usually fed him. It tasted like shit, but it was nutritious and almost completely absorbed by the body - barely producing any waste.

The kid tried to take it, but his hands were useless, flapping around from disuse, so Peter held it to his mouth.

“Suck. You know how to do that, don’t you? You’re not even good for anything else…”

“Hey, what was his name again? Something idiotic with an ‘S’?” he asked Chris and he had to rake his brain for a few moments to remember.

“S… Stiles? I think…” It was idiotic. Not like it mattered, he wouldn’t need it where he would end up eventually.

The boy still perked up at the sound of the name, making Peter croon.

“That’s right, isn’t it, princess? Stiles.”

He made a sound that could have been taken for agreement.

“Well, Stiles, you have to drink all this, okay? Be good and do as I say,” Peter told him. This time the boy tried harder to swallow the liquid, drinking it down in big gulps. He looked like he would give up halfway - it had to be two pints, no wonder he was already full - but Peter didn’t let him stop.

“No, no, princess. All of it.” He tripped the bottle a little more.

Chris rolled his eyes.

After Peter was finished force-feeding the boy they put him in the wheelchair. Stiles had a hard time sitting up, but he seemed to be slightly better at coordinating his limbs with every minute.

There was an old operating room at the end of the corridor - sometimes it paid to have their base of operation be in an abandoned asylum - that was tile covered, and more importantly could be flushed out with the built in hoses.

Stiles burped a few times on the way, and when Peter swatted the back of his head, he giggled. Dear god, the kid was so gone.

Peter was close to trembling from excitement as soon as they were there, and he didn’t waste any time pulling the kid out of the wheelchair and pushing him to the cold floor. He plugged in the electric razor as he kneeled in front of him.

“And now, Rapunzel, we will get rid of that all that hair, hm?” he grinned. “You take his ass, I’ll take his mouth,” Peter said without even looking at Chris.

That was fine by him. Honestly, he wanted a taste of that hole since he came back to see it gaping open and wet after Peter’s fisting session and Deaton’s ministrations.

They pulled the boy to his hands and knees, arranging his body between them, with his pert little ass turned to Chris. It looked good - still slick from the lube earlier that day and winking at him. He pulled his cock out and jerked a few times to get himself completely hard. Peter did the same, except he was already rock hard, because of course he was.

The boy moaned as soon as he saw the cock in front of him, like he was starving for it. It made Peter laugh.

He grabbed Stiles’ hair and kept his head in place, slapping his face with his erection a few times.

“You want this, princess? You want a taste of the real thing after so much rubber in your mouth?”

The boy made a pathetic  _ ‘uh-uh-hu’ _ sound, breath hitching and tried to get closer, but Peter wasn’t having any of it.

“Ah-ha! I want to see your face nice and clear when Chris starts pounding that sloppy hole of yours,” the man said, and really, who was Chris to make him wait?

He sank in without resistance, bottoming out in one smooth motion, eyes falling closed from the velvety heat around him. The kid wasn’t tight by any means, but he was warm and wet, like a saggy pussy.

Stiles came the second he slid in, back arching and limbs trembling with the force of it. Peter hissed out a yes and thrust forward, right into his orgasm slack mouth.

The boy choked on it. Peter was a big guy, so it was no surprise and Chris moaned at the momentary tightening of his hole.

“Oh, yeah, that’s nice, princess. Show me what that tongue of yours can do,” Peter said. He put the electric razor down and grabbed the boy’s ears, yanking him forward a few times, fucking his face like there was no tomorrow. 

Stiles choked a few more times, but then his body when lax as it gave up resistance, just taking the abuse from both ends, except for the occasional twitch when he came. It wasn’t much anymore, just a few droplets and a bit of trembling and soon enough he was coming dry.

Peter didn’t like that too much.

“Alright, princess, here I come,” he said, palming the back of the boy’s neck and starting the buzzer. He kept him close, with Stiles’ face plastered against his belly as he started shaving his head.

The boy was struggling, weakly trying to get away and get some air, but it was no use. Peter just snorted at his attempts and tightened his fingers, watching as the boy’s locks fluttered to the floor and his face grew red from the lack of oxygen.

Chris took hold of the boy’s hips and pulled him back with enough force that he could get in a small gasp of air. 

“Hey!” Peter said, sounding put out that his game was ruined, but Chris just shook his head at him.

“This is how you offed the last one. We need this alive, so behave yourself,” he said, and honestly, would this guy never learn?

Peter huffed but nodded.

“Okay, okay.” 

He pulled back a bit, Stiles burping and panting as he gulped down some air and then Peter was jerking him forward again, stuffing his throat with his cock, back to shaving. Chris didn’t get what was so good about that, but he had to admit that there was a certain charm in how different the boy looked with every stripe of his head buzzed.

It made him look younger, maybe even a bit less like a person.

As much as he enjoyed his end, he wasn’t anywhere closed to finished, the loose hold of the boy’s overused hole not providing nearly enough friction, especially after his balls were completely empty and he couldn’t come anymore. All it did was squelch and slurp and twitch around his cock, only making him hornier.

When Peter was done shaving Stiles’ hair he dropped the electric razor, running his hands over the short, silky buzz, humming in pleasure. His hips started hammering forward again, but at least this time he was pulling back enough not to suffocate the boy.

“Aren’t you a real beauty, princess? Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you, huh? Whatever you’ve been, it’s all gone now, just a toy to be played with…”

He pulled out when he came, shooting his load all over Stiles’ face, and then smearing it around until the kid was a filthy mess. The boy giggled wetly, coughing and burping from the rough treatment.

Chris was fucking him in earnest now too, but was still not close to finishing. Damn, he should have taken his mouth. He was just about ready to ask Peter to switch places when the man noticed his struggle.

“Aw, what is it, Chris? Not sloppy enough?”

He grit his teeth, pressing bruises into the boy’s hips. It was amazing what his time in the corset did - his waist was slimmer. Not quite grotesque just yet, but getting there. It was a pretty sight.

“A bit too sloppy,” he growled out, making Peter laugh.

“I think I know a trick just for that,” he said, shifting around. He pushed the boy’s chest down until he was balancing on his elbows.

“What do you say, princess? Want to make it better for Chris here? It’s your job, isn’t it?”

Stiles moaned, breath hitching. He actually tried to tighten his hole, but it wasn’t anywhere strong enough.

Peter hummed.

“Let me see if I can help with that. I know that pesky little gag reflex must still be there somewhere…”

Oh. Chris suddenly understood why Peter made the boy drink down all that nasty feeding mix.

Peter grinned up at him and then pushed three fingers into Stiles’ mouth, forcing his lips wide open. Chris could just imagine that he was aiming for that spot at the back of his throat, and before he could even groan at the image, Stiles was burping and gagging, whole body straining as he tried to keep his liquid food down.

Peter kept talking to him.

“Come on, princess. Show me your dinner. Show me…”

Stiles was crying, wailing loudly between choking his food back, but Peter wasn’t letting up, fingers still wiggling, making it a losing battle.

Chris hissed when the boy started throwing up. The squeeze as his body seized up was heavenly, and he rutted into it, chasing the friction as his ears filled with the wet sounds of white vomit hitting the tiles.

Peter was laughing like a maniac. He pulled his hand back, but there was no stopping now. The food was heavy and disgusting anyway - one of the reasons why they used a drip to get it down - and it must have made Stiles queasy from the start. At least he would be relieved now.

He retched for a long time, even after nothing was coming anymore, and the constant constrictions of his hole as he suffered was enough to get him off, coming deep into that hungry hole.

Peter was back to just smiling, rubbing his hand over the boy’s shaved head almost comfortingly, watching him being sick all over the floor until it slowly subsided.

Chris sat back on his heels - he was pretty much finished with playing for the day, but he could see that Peter was hard again. 

As soon as Stiles was done, the man pulled him away from the puddle of food mix, yanking on his body until he could take the boy’s mouth again.

It was very different this time, because the kid kept choking and gagging and crying all the way, gag reflex fired up from all the vomiting. Peter looked like he loved every second of it.

Chris arranged his legs a bit more comfortably and set up to enjoy the show; listening to the boy’s choked off sobbs and seeing his hole clenching and unclenching to the rhythm of his gagging, pushing out gloops of come and lube.

Yeah, the kid was done.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter!  
> Thank you for all who followed this fic and were not scared away :D

Chris might not have enjoyed his work quite as much as Peter did, but he was always proud of a job well done.

By the end of the third month, the kid was perfect; his body was turned into an obscene, lewd instrument of pleasure for whoever wanted to use him - and honestly, after that first time, they used him a lot. It was always good to give the boys some hands-on experience before their debut.

They took him out for walks to the small inner yard of the abandoned facility, trying to build back some of the strength of his muscles now that he was broken enough that they didn’t have to worry about him escaping. It was a bit slow, but they managed.

Stiles looked beautiful; his waist was slim from wearing the corset for so long, making him look fey-ish and otherworldly. Or like a sexdoll. They had all his body hair removed with lasers and it left his skin smooth and delicate all over. Stiles didn’t like the process, but then again, that wasn’t really a requirement.

His cock was plugged at all times to stop him from leaking a mix of piss and precome all over himself, but most times they left his ass alone.

It was broken enough that it stayed open and gaping even without regular workouts, and the kid started coming uncontrollably every time they stuffed him, making him absolutely useless.

They walked him around the yard twice every day for the last few weeks. At first they had to keep him up from both sides because his legs grew weak with disuse, but by now he was walking on his own, looking around the blue skies and the gray walls with a stupid, vacant expression. Sometimes he even let his mouth hang open, drool dripping down his chin when he forgot to swallow.

Peter liked to tease him. He would step in close and pull on one of the boy’s elongated, fat nipples making him double over and whine like an animal. It would get his bare, plugged little cock twitching like crazy.

They had two days until opening night when Deaton appeared in the door at the end of their walk, smiling warmly at Stiles.

“You ready for your last examination, little one?” he asked.

For whatever godforsaken reason, Stiles liked the man. He was always grinning like an idiot when the doctor pushed the large speculum in his hole, making it go as wide as it could. It had Stiles coming in two seconds flat.

The kid nodded, tongue hanging out of his mouth, he walked over, hugging Deaton and rutting against him, like he couldn’t stop himself, making the man laugh.

“Alright, alright. Come on then. I have a very special thing set up for you after…”

***

Deaton did a thorough check. He took the boy’s cock plug out and carefully pushed his pinky into his pisshole to test the stretch. Stiles was howling, and as soon as the doctor pulled his finger out it was followed by come, just bubbling out of his obscenely gaping cock.

The man used the speculum too, fingering Stiles’ prostate between the open blades until the boy had his eyes rolled back, body twitching like he was having a seizure, pissing himself. Peter chuckled at the sight, even as Chris tutted. That would be hell clean up…

For once the doctor even took his vitals, like a medical professional actually should, declaring him healthy enough to start working in the house.

They splashed the boy with some water to get him back online and then Deaton led them down the corridor.

Peter was grinning already. Except for Stiles, they all knew what was coming.

At the end of the hall the doctor unlocked a heavy door, opening it wide and shooing Stiles inside.

It was one of those old, padded rooms, every wall and even the floor covered in thick padding. There was no bed, no nothin, just a big cardboard box full of sextoys and a bottle of water.

Stiles made a confused sound.

“Now, boy. It’s time for your last night before you start your job. You will be locked here for the next twelve hours. You can do whatever you want to,” Deaton told him. “You can catch some sleep, laze around… anything you want.”

Stiles bit his lip, looking at them uncertainly as the doctor closed the door. 

“Entertain yourself.”

***

It was their first undisturbed night in three months, and Chris had to admit that he slept like a baby, but by morning Peter was absolutely giddy with excitement.

“Do you think he passed the test?” he asked as they ate their breakfast in their room - what used to be the nightguards little apartment.

Chris shrugged. It didn’t really matter. They liked to call it a ‘test’ but it was more of a tradition, to see if they made a good enough job breaking the boys. It was one of Peter’s favorite parts of the process.

Deaton arrived just a few moments before the time was up, and Christ thought there was a little skip in the doctor’s steps as they walked to the room.

Even Chris was a little anxious as they opened the door, and the second he saw the boy, he sighed in relief. Peter was hooting beside him and even Deaton was grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Stiles was not sleeping. He probably hadn’t slept at all. He was laying on the padded floor with two horse-cock dildoes stuffed into his hole, far enough that they made his belly bulge. There was another one - one with a dog knot - in his mouth, jammed far enough that his breath was whizzing a bit. He also had a pair of clamps on his nipples, the poor little buds looking angry and red, like they’d been tortured for hours.

The boy was just writhing on the floor, body jerking. He had one hand on one of the dildos, trying to push it even deeper into his ass, even though it wasn’t possible. The other was busy too; his middle finger fucking the slit of his cock, making piss and come squirt out beside the digit.

Peter was by his side in a second, kneeling on the floor, uncaring of the sticky mess of bodily fluids under the boy.

“Aw, princess! I’m so proud, look at you!” he said. He reached down and forced a couple fingers in beside the two dildos, making Stiles’ back arch, the unbelievable outline of his slimmed down waist making him look like he was a doll.

The boy whined, gagging a bit around the fake dog-cock in his mouth, making Peter laugh.

Deaon leaned against the door as he watched, patting Chris on the shoulder.

“Good job, the metamorphosis is complete.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> You can find me at udunie.tumblr.com!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Animal play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15378840) by [Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner/pseuds/Crystal_Mazes_Lovely_Corner)




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